The Fall
by Melodic Lullaby
Summary: (Prime) Optimus and Megatron meet on the battlefield one final time.


**AN**: This was my first Transformers short I've written in years so I am relatively rusty with fight scenes and characterization. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

This is set in the Transformers Prime universe.

* * *

_It should have been me_.

The thought echoed in his processor, harsher each time he heard it, ringing in his mind until he felt disoriented. The world around him spun, space and stars blanketing his vision as he collapsed to the ground for another countless time. His armor crushed and split, the vibrant contrast of energon leaking from shattered veins and metalwork, his blade cast aside after being splintered from his arm. Forcibly, he pushed himself up again—gears shifting and cogs clattering with an energy they lacked. Once more, he stood on his feet, legs shaking beneath his massive figure as inferno optics gazed across the battlefield to find an equally abused Optimus Prime, attempting to gather a second wind.

"It doesn't need to end like this, Megatron."

He sneered, lips curling into a snarl of defiance against the Autobot commander and his attempt to dissuade him from the fight. How nostalgic; it had been some time since he heard such claims fall from Optimus' vocals. But his pleading fell on deaf audios, the tyrant no longer interested in rebuilding the fractured bond between them. It was far too late for that—far too long. Still, it _burned_ within his very core, that anger and infuriated sting of betrayal. He had worked endlessly to change their era, to change their way of life. To change _everything_.

"Doesn't it Optimus? What do you expect to be the outcome, even if it could? Would we return to Cybertron, rebuild our home and hold conversation of political movement once more? Speak of the injustice that once plagued our system?" His tone weighed heavily with his words, knowing very well that Optimus knew the truth behind his words. They were both too far gone in this war, too consumed with their roles, to do anything beyond battle. Neither of them could be forgiven by the other—it was an endless cycle, one that would only break through the fall of the other. It was on this ground torn asunder than an era would come to an end.

As expected, there was no response from the Autobot. They were both on their final leg, soaked in their own life fluid and bodies struggling to hold them at a stand. Neither made a move, the silence bearing down upon them in the vacuum of space, staring the other off as they waited for the moment to strike. Optimus moved first, rushing toward the Decepticon with as much force as his legs could manage, arms transfigured into their energy blade counterparts. Megatron was quick to react, raising his right arm in an effort to demolish Optimus from afar, fusion cannon firing at a rapid pace to blast him dead on. Swerving and twisting, the Autobot managed to outmaneuver his gunfire—becoming more difficult the closer he got to the overlord. One shot — one energy strike managed to make contact, eliminating a portion of Optimus' shoulder and jerking him to the ground. But he would not fall without effort, thrusting his unwounded arm out to concave Megatron's chest plating. Bounding just out of reach at the last moment, the Decepticon escaped with a hollow slash down his frontal, revealing a faint blue and white light illuminating within. A hand rose to cover the wound, snarling at the sensation that ricocheted through his body, the _pain_.

But he _reveled_ in it. The fight, the agony, the struggle—it was as if he were back on Cybertron, a simple combatant in the Pit. The glory, the conquest, the _victory_. It was all his and his alone. _Megatronus_, they chanted, they shouted. He was _their_ hero—their idol and the one that was destined to change their future. It was supposed to be _him_ who led them to a new era, _he_ that was destined to overthrow the council's ruling and change the fate of their world. _He_ was the inspiration, the victor, the underdog. It was _he_ who rose from nothing and went beyond his designation to achieve a dream that had all but been scattered to ash among the ranks of the lower caste and spoke of freedom and choosing one's own path. It was _he_ who instated vigor and turned the weary into the hopeful. The weak into fighters. Gave purpose to those who felt they had none and gave them something to desire. He was the living proof that such things could be achieved, after all.

So why did they choose Orion?

A collision between the two titanic creations brought him back to reality, right hand snatching up to pierce talons through the metal sheeting of Optimus Prime's face guard, ripping in an effort to tear his head clean from his shoulders. Optimus made a rebuttal, raising his left arm in order to shift Megatron's stance enough to grasp his invasive limb, the energy blade on his right arm weaving through the air to split Megatron's servo from its joint. A vicious and infuriated roar broke the looming silence of space as the silver ravager ripped away from Optimus, instinctively feeling at the stub that now held the place where his fusion cannon once rested. Quickly his sight jotted to where his arm lie, floundered away from the force. But the assault did not go unscathed, holding a decent piece of the plating that once held itself to Prime's features, leaving a gaping hole in the Autobot commander's face as wires snapped about in electric discharge. One vibrant sapphire optic glitched and flickered before blackening, leaving them both at a disadvantage.

Only a few feet separated them. It could all be ended, here and now, if the right move was made.

"Is this what you intend, Megatron? For the both of us to perish in a battle to the death?"

"Oh not so Optimus! Only you—for you see, I've a universe to conquer! Considering you destroyed any chance of my returning to Cybertron and rebuilding our home world, why not _expand_ my horizons? Starting with your precious Earth…"

That seemed to be the trigger, as Optimus immediately rushed at him once more, leaving the now cannon-less Megatron to rely on his reaction time to dodge direct hits. But combined with the strain already put on his body from both injury and lack of energon to fuel him, it proved a bigger challenge than he initially anticipated. It wasn't until one faulty slip up resulted in Optimus' blades to carve deeper into the wound on his chest that he realized where the Autobot aimed—

—_His spark chamber_.

There was an immediate backlash, one massive, armored leg rising to send a heavy foot into Optimus' chest and send him careening backwards. So Prime's head was finally in the game, was it? A simple threat against an organic species and he was suddenly in a fighting mood. How typical—always more concerned with the lives of others than himself. Optimus settled on his back, groaning as his own mechanics struggled to upright him.

"I will not… let you harm the humans. I will not let you do to Earth as you did to Cybertron—**_Megatron_**."

"Such quaint determination. Unfortunate Prime, but it would seem our battle is not to end here." Turning away from the downed Autobot, he made way toward his tattered arm to retrieve it. Knock Out would repair the damage and he would return again to claim Prime's spark. Then everything would be as it should be—he would take control of the universe and destroy all who oppose him.

"—A gladiator should know not to turn his back on an enemy."

What?! Swiftly turning—surely Optimus could not regain himself so quickly—he saw nothing but a flare of energy, scattering across the panels of his face and shattering against his optics. An explosion of light fluttered across his vision as he roared in outrage and pain, his remaining arm swinging out in a vicious movement, attempting to claw out anything that he could get his servos on. When he got a hold on Optimus, he would _tear his very core out!_

A heavy, forceful collision swept him off his feet, and his arm raised to cover the wound that provided enough space to damage his spark chamber permanently. Still his vision was blinded, a white aftermath of being bullseyed with a plasma gun. A weight bear down upon him, forcing his arm away just enough to plant the barrel of said weapon deep into the entry wound that lead to his spark—and he snarled at the vacant, white emptiness.

"_You were my brother_…"

The words were spoken only faintly, but sounded as loud as war drums in his audio receptors._Brother_—he dare speak the word after so many eons. After everything he had _taken_, he dare have the _audacity_. Optimus Prime—Orion Pax, the one who had taken all of his efforts and reaped from them the one thing he desired above all else. The mere fact that Orion never desired such a position in the first place only spread salt upon the wound.

_Megatronus_, they chanted.

He reached forward, gripping the rims of Optimus' windshield plating, ripping him forward as his vision slowly began to return to him in his final moments. A snarl decorated his marred face, venomous and wrathful.

"You were never mine."

_It should have been his_.


End file.
